I reread the short article, looking for some other meaning or something that makes sense to me. But I find nothing and am left once again feeling like the person I thought was my dad is a lie.

Chapter Twenty-one

ASH, AARYA, INES, and I sit in the cab silently. I lean against the window, watching the lit-up London streets as we go. I slip my hands in my sweatshirt pockets, still bummed we couldn’t bring our coats. Aarya insisted we’d have no place to stash them after sneaking into the hotel—no place we could guarantee that we’d get them back, anyway. I slowly press the buttons on my cell phone in my pocket, typing On way into a text message to Layla and Matteo.

I’ve been updating them all day, piece by piece as the planning came together, an action I initially imagined would be reassuring. But Layla only proceeded to find fault with every strategy. And the whole thing felt odd, like I was a double agent of sorts, erasing all evidence of our texts and not telling Ash, Aarya, and Ines what I was doing.

I keep my hand on the phone, but I can’t tell if they’ve replied because I set it to silent. I chew on the inside of my cheek, and my thoughts drift back to what Matteo said about me being selfish. I want to push against it, denying that it could be true, given the countless risks I’ve taken in the past month. But I’m also not sure I can argue that my actions had a higher purpose beyond staying alive and protecting my dad.

The cab stops, interrupting my train of thought. We pile out about five blocks from the hotel and I can feel the reassuring pressure of the knife stashed in my boot as I step onto the sidewalk. I gently touch the rope tied to my belt and readjust the backpack on my shoulder, which is full but light, stuffed with my ball gown and mask. The air is unusually biting, given our lack of layers, but no one seems to notice.

Ines and I walk behind Ash and Aarya down the busy London sidewalk populated by a fashionable late-night dinner crowd and upscale bar patrons. Spirits are running high and holiday lights are everywhere. Ever since we exited the cab Ash and Aarya have been arguing about what route to take, which is impressive, considering it already took us an hour to agree on one earlier.

Ines walks casually, like she doesn’t have a care in the world, but her eyes are so alert, I wouldn’t be surprised if she could describe the last fifty people we’ve passed from memory. I, too, scan the crowd, looking for the signature hawkish Strategia eyes that are out of place in otherwise relaxed behavior.